A Million Empty Pages
by 324b21niehaus
Summary: AU. As a chemistry teacher, the last thing Cosima Niehaus ever thought possible unfolds down the hallway from her classroom, sending a wave of fear throughout Evanston High School. The tragedy hits far closer to home than she could have imagined, and the entire town is left to pick up the pieces of their shattered community, with her so dangerously close to the center.
1. Chapter 1

_****AUTHOR'S NOTE** VERY IMPORTANT: **this story deals with a great handful of triggers, including school violence, sexual assault, and trauma. someone will probably ask me why i'm writing something that involves such triggers, but they will mostly be heavily discussed in the first chapter (possibly the second) and then will become less mentioned the further the story progresses, and as an answer to such a question: i do not limit the vastness of my imagination, nor do i feel like i should circumnavigate certain topics that i feel are important and should be discussed, because these are real life things that tragically happen in the world. i, as a writer and as someone who feels these subjects need more people paying attention to them, embrace them as such and do not, in any way, negate their importance. this is an incredibly heavy story, and so i just wanted to take time to preface things with this little note, and as a friendly heads up to those who might be a little more sensitive to the above mentioned topics than others. thank you and i hope you enjoy._

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><p><strong>4:40 AM.<strong>

_Beep. Beep. Beep. BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. **BEEP. BEEP.**_The longer it droned on, the more the shrill shriek of the alarm clock seemed to fade from the pulse of a machine into a yell, a scream, a demand that Cosima Niehaus rouse from sleep in order to restore the silence. With a disgruntled groan, a hand lazily slid from beneath the duvet and collapsed onto the top of the clock, knocking a button just the right way, ceasing the drill that was boring into her left ear. At what point, she wondered, had she decided upon a profession that caused her to rise before the sun?

Her morning ritual was always the same: shower, brush teeth, get dressed, make a bagel, make coffee, gather up the scattered pile of tests and homework off of her dining room table, organize said tests into her briefcase, grab her packed lunch, and head for the door. Maybe Cosima wasn't what one would typically think of when the words 'chemistry teacher' graced the ears, but she loved her job more than she knew how to depict vocally. There was something about teaching kids things about the way the world worked, about the magic of the sciences that was so enthralling for her. Her well-kept dreads were always tied tightly atop her head in a bun, as to maintain her authority as an educator, and her glasses perched on the bridge of her nose, occasionally slipping down, which was mostly only handy in the case that she was trying to play the role of 'slightly intimidating but cool teacher that no one really wants to piss off.' For the most part, she managed to pull it off. Everyone had that one rogue student who seemed to like causing disruptions, but it was easy to overlook when most of the others were good kids.

**5:55 AM.**

As she cut the engine to her dark teal Beetle, her thin fingers slid her phone from her bag, flipping it around as she unlocked the screen, composing a text message to Athena, her little sister, who also happened to be in her eighth period AP class.

_"I know you probably aren't even out of bed yet, but I wanted to see if you wanted me to stick around after practice. Maybe we can grab ice cream or something? Let me know. Have a good day. Learn stuff. Be awesome. Don't be a nuisance in my class. xx."_

She was in the middle of her second year as a member of the Evanston High staff, and a part of her already knew she didn't want to ever leave. Her co-workers were kind and intelligent, and the majority of her students, especially the ones in AP chem, were smart, hilarious kids who always kept her on her toes. They were every day reminders as to why she chose to teach, as opposed to exploring other venues. She was always so hungry for a challenge, and a room full of teenagers did just that.

**7:05 AM.**

First bell. No response from Athena. Maybe she overslept.

**8:19 AM.**

"Umm, let's see. Seventeen?" Cosima posed, a mini candy bar balanced in her palm. Tuesdays were 'Atomic Tuesdays' in which Cosima practiced something she, and her students seemed to thoroughly enjoy. Armed with her plethora of knowledge of atomic numbers, she would rattle them off and the first to speak up would get tossed a piece of candy.

"Chlorine!" yelled a girl from the back whose hand instantly shot up to catch the piece of chocolate that Cosima tossed her.

"Fifty four!" she called, grinning as a boy up front's hand shot up, giving him a nod to encourage him to keep going.

"Xenon!" She grinned, tossing him the pack of Sweettarts she had been tossing back and forth in her hands.

"How abouttt… Eighty four!"

"Polonium!" shouted a smaller boy toward the left. As she started to toss him the sucker she had pulled from the bag, the phone on her desk to her right began to ring.

"Alright, time out, guys. Lemme grab this." She slid into her chair as it rolled over toward the wall, causing her to scoop up the receiver in one smooth movement.

"Ms Niehaus." She immediately recognized Alison, the school secretary's voice. "Please, stay calm and do not look alarmed, as you may alert the children. There is currently a situation in the women's locker room involving five students, one of which we know to be in possession of a firearm." In one split second, Cosima's entire morning was suddenly turned on it's head.

"I understand," she managed back in order to convey that she was still listening. Her stomach was at her feet, as she knew was probably the same with all of the teachers in the building receiving that call.

"In a calm and orderly fashion, please ask your students to exit the classroom and find their way to the east end exit. Tell them to leave their things for the time being and that they can come back for them later."

"Absolutely. Thank you, Alison." With that, and a lead ball sinking in her core, Cosima hung up the phone and got to her feet, making a valiant attempt at keeping her cool despite the panic that was beginning to crush her. "Hey, can you guys do me a favor? We're gonna go outside for a few minutes. Something about the boiler in the basement," Although she was normally a horrible liar, there was something in the urgency of the situation that kept her composed.

**8:29 AM.**

As the last of her kids straggled out and sat down in the grass, Cosima went for her phone with every intention of texting her sister to see if she was alright. However, her home screen informed her that she had four texts awaiting, all from Athena.

"_I'm so sorry, Cos."_

_"I need you to know that I love you. And Mom and Dad."_

_"I wish it didn't have to be like this."_

It was the last one, though, that struck something in her, completely snapping her in two.

"I can't give you answers, not like this. But if… if you ever need them… Look in the purple storage box in my closet. It's up top. But… if you do go looking for them, just know that it's only you… Only you can know the answers. Not Mom, not Dad. Just you. I'm so sorry, Cosie. I love you so much."

Before she even finished reading, she had started to shake like a leaf, her bones trembling from their very cores. "Athena!" she called over the heads of the hundreds of gathered students, but she got no response. She wove in and out of students, frantically scanning faces, just hoping to see her sister, but to no avail. A few of the other teachers had gathered together in front of their students and were talking amongst themselves, obviously about what was happening. "Have any of you seen Athena Niehaus?" she asked them, and it was the mousy Mr. Siddiqi who answered.

"She's in my second period World History class, but she never showed up."

**8:37 AM.**

Cosima felt like she was going to throw up. Instantly, she headed back toward the school, starting to break out into a full sprint, but she was stopped dead in her tracks not a moment later.

_Pop, pop, pop, pop, pop, pop. _There was a pause, and when Cosima realized why, she hit her knees, knowing what was coming next, and before she could finish the thought, it happened. _Pop._

Seven shots were heard that morning, by the gathered 693 students on the school's parking lot, but not one of them seemed even half as loud as the wail that came from the crumpled heap of a chemistry teacher on the sidewalk, closest to the building.

**9:15 AM.**

Every local broadcast program was interrupted by their respective news crews in the greater Chicago area, who had all made it to the outside of the schools perimeter as soon as the 911 call had come in. Every news anchor, man and woman, tall and short, thin and stocky, had recited the same information to their viewers, as if they might as well ahve all been reading off of the same script.

_"Sources say that shots were fired at approximately eight thirty seven this morning, when one student who has not yet been identified by police turned a gun on four other students, before shooting and killing his or her self. We're currently trying to bring you as much as possible on this situation and will keep you updated."_

Everyone in Evanston, and the better half of Chicago, was learning what happened, but no one wanted it to be untrue more than Cosima. While the newscasters rattled off their garble, and police examined the locker room, Cosima was in the corner of the principal, Mrs. Sadler's office, the lights off, with her head buried in her knees, the tears falling uncontrollably, even though she was doing everything she could to keep her eyes shut. They just seemed to leak out, staining her cheeks with the traces of eyeliner they carrid with them regardless.

Something in her was broken, shattered in a way that she could not pick up the pieces. Nothing made sense. In fact, it made so much sense that it just seemed impossible, like it was of no sense at all. How could Athena do this? What was she thinking? The moment Siobhan had come to Cosima, holding her hands together, she had known. She had known the moment she read those texts, but there was no denying it in that moment.

There were so many questions she demanded answers to, but she felt so weak that moving even an inch seemed entirely impractical. She wanted her bed, to bury herself in her duvet only to wake up and realize that this had been some horrible nightmare. That, though, was never going to happen.

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><p>Two weeks, comprised of too many sob-filled hours to count, had passed since the thirteenth of November, a day that had ripped a hole in the heart of the Evanston, Illinois community.<p>

In two weeks, Cosima had attended four funerals. Jonah Green's had been first, then Nicholas Jamison's, followed a day later by Isaiah Hanley's. Athena's had been a few days afterward, and it had been the hardest up to that point, as she had known it would be.

Friends and family had gathered to mourn the loss of such an incredibly bright and kind-hearted young woman and athlete, but not many others came. Cosima knew that people thought her sister a monster, capable of an act of hatred so horrifying, but anyone who had known her _knew_ that wasn't true. Cos knew that there were answers, but a large part of her simply wasn't ready to have them, though she had been so desperate in the beginning.

Saying goodbye to a closed casket after watching her parents completely come unglued had been the singlemost difficult thing Cosima had done in her entire twenty eight and a half years. She was never going to be able to cheer her baby sister on at a track meet, or be the loudest person at a basketball game when she got excited that Athena scored. She was never going to be able to have her little sister over for movie nights, or ice cream runs. Nothing was ever going to be like it was, and that was a reality that Cosima was having a difficult time living in.

That had been bad, one of the most heart-breaking, gut-wrenching things Cosima had ever been through, but it was the very last funeral, the one for Jacques Cormier, that was going to nearly knock her out with a one-two punch.

She wasn't much of a spectacle, dressing down in nothing more than a black dress and gray scarf, and tried to keep to herself, but she never could have imagined the reception she was going to get the moment she set foot in that church. She had kept her head down, only glancing up to offer her condolences, but was stopped when the woman on the end step forward, her lips tight in a thin line and her brows pulled together in anger. As Cosima, startled, took a step back, she looked up at the woman from above her glasses, recognizing her almost instantly. Though her once unruly blond curls used to hang down her back over a decade ago, they were tame and pulled tight into a bun atop her head. Delphine. They had been in the same graduating class and had shared a couple of classes over their four years of high school, but had never talked much for whatever reason.

"What do you think you're doing here?" she demanded in a low hiss, her eyes narrowing, her jaw tense.

Cosima's mouth was suddenly dry and it felt as though a rock had lodged itself somewhere low in her throat. "I… I came to pay my respects." Her hands were trembling at her sides and she couldn't find it in her to make eye contact with the taller woman.

"The only respect you could pay anyone here would be to leave." Her voice was quiet, but it had an undeniably sharp edge that turned Cosima's stomach into knots.

"Please, I—"

"_Leave._"

"But—"

"Don't you get it? We wouldn't even _be_ here if it weren't for your psychotic sis—" Their exchange had started off quiet, but as Delphine started to speak, her volume rose, but it was nowhere near as loud as the sound that echoed off of the church walls as Cosima's open palm landed flatly and cleanly across Dephine's cheek.

In an instant, the blonde's eyes were impossibly wide and her jaw went slack in shock. Cosima's were twice the size and she was clutching her hand close to her chest, as if she hadn't been in control of it just three seconds ago.

"I… I'm s-sorry," she stammored, immediately making a break for the door, so thankful that no one even attempted to stop her.

By the time she hit the street, she was nearly running for her car, her eyes brimming with tears. Her entire life was falling apart faster than she could keep up and she felt like she was drowning. The world was trembling all around her, cracking in a three hundred and sixty degree sphere, crumbling before her very eyes.

Her forehead pressed to the steering wheel of her car, her sobbing encased within the confines of her car. She had been doing so well, between the funerals and her parents, keeping her emotions in check, but this had driven a wrecking ball straight through her resolve.

After what felt like an eternity, but turned out to be only fifteen minutes, she managed to compose herself well enough to drive to her parent's house. It was unbearable, not having the pieces she needed to put the puzzle together. The mystery was killing her, and she needed so desperately to dig deep, somewhere deep inside of her to find the courage to do what was necessary.

Her mother had made dinner and though she hadn't been able to eat, she thanked her and pardoned herself to be alone in the basement, at least until she knew her parents had fallen asleep. Her footsteps were light and quiet as she made her way up the stairs and down the hallway, her heart hammering as she stood in front of her sister's bedroom door. She pressed her forehead to the cold wood of the door, inhaling slowly through her nose. There was a storm brewing inside of her mind, the thunder of her heartbeat booming in her ears. The soft click of the doorknob was the only evidence of her slipping into the room before turning on the flashlight on her phone.

As she pulled open the closet door and tilted the light upward, her heart leapt into her throat. There, on the top shelf, sat the thirteen by seven by five purple storage box, sealed shut with a lid of the same color. On the front, scribed on the paper label was a single word in Athena's pinpoint scrawl, tugging at an all-too-painful heartstring.

'_Cosima._'


	2. Chapter 2

There, all at once, was an earthquake happening, one that existed on a different plane, for the only person whose earth shook so violently hard at one twelve in the morning, was Cosima. She had never known something so simple, say like grabbing a box, to be such an insurmountable task until those few fleeting moments. It wasn't just her hands that were shaking, trembling, it was her arms, her legs. Her knees felt composed of sheer rubber and the air around her felt heavy in her lungs. Her mind was running far faster than her physical being could catch up to and it was pulling at her, nipping at her heels, so desperate to gnaw at every inch of her. She had come this far, she _had_ to know.

As she lifted her arms to retrieve the box, it was hard, like someone had tied fifty pound weights to them. She could just turn and go, retreat back to her make-shift cave in the basement and just leave it be. That would have been _too_easy. She needed the answers that Athena Jane had _promised_ her, for the sake of her own sanity. How was she ever supposed to go back to those school? What was to say that Delphine Cormier's way of thinking wouldn't be contagious, infectious, spreading and catching on to those who once regarded her as innocent. What if they all started blaming her, turning their eyes to her based solely on her sister's actions? Two weeks ago, Cosima had been in love with her job and happy in her life, and somehow, her life had fallen into such a state of disrepair that she wasn't sure she could say either held true any longer. Though she was on paid leave, she was not even sure that she would get her job back, which only furthered the shattering of her heart.

With so many 'what-if's' buzzing around, bouncing off of the inside of her skull, she was of right mind enough to recognize that those were all scenarios that had not played out yet, things she needn't worry about, at least until she was facing them head on. What was calling for her focus and attention was the box that rested uneasily between her shaking palms. It was light, but only in the physicality of it being a small box. Holding it there, looking down at the top of the lid, Cosima nearly buckled beneath the five tons of weight she knew was contained inside, the kind of weight that one could never touch or hold in their hands, but could crush spirits within the blink of an eye. Knowing better than to turn on the light, Cosima sulked her way back to the door, sliding quietly into the hall. Her footsteps were inaudible as she decended the two flights of stairs to the basement, the purple storage box clutched tightly to her side. Her lungs still felt like lead and her head was swimming in circles, but there was no denying what came next, even if there was no possible way to brace herself.

Lifting the lid of the box, a knot formed somewhere high up in her stomach, causing a lump to rise in her throat, making it even harder to breathe. Her mind was moving a million miles an hour, going over the things she had already contained basic knowledge of: Athena had been sick just over a month before the incident, where she had missed a few days of school, but Cosima had gone over every day to drop of her homework and check up on her. Every day she did so but one, Athena had been asleep. Upon her return to school, she had made few mentions to Cosima about still feeling ill and not having much energy, but it just appeared as though her body was having a hard time catching up after being ill for so long. Each time Cos made an offer to bring over soup, or to take her out for a bite, she was met with a polite decline to her offer, which she had thought nothing of. _You should have,_ she scolded herself, _You should have been paying attention._ She shook her head, the dreads that hung loosely over her shoulders rustling the slightest bit. None of that seemed to make any sense, nor would it until she gathered up the courage to look inside the now lidless box before her.

Pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose, Cosima peered down to see a notebook lying inside, the cover tattooed by the ink of Athena's renditions of dragons and wolves and horses, so lifelike and yet, so limited to the card stock on which they were drawn, never to know any form of replication on another page in its entire carbon pressed lifetime. As she tenderly lifted the journal out, much like it was made of china, she pushed the box backwards. Her hands were still trembling uncontrollably as her fingertips slid over the binding over the notebook, over the pages, studying them, and almost instantly discovering something that seemed out of place.

The first twenty or thirty pages of the journal, just from the side view, fell in perfect order, smooth as the day they were pressed. She thumbed through these entries and found that they were happy things, things about her mile times or how many three point shots she could make in a game. She talked about her ex boyfriend that lived a few towns over and how they went bowling, and about the girl in her forth period ceramics class that she had an impossibly large crush on. Though she was certain that these were not the pages she was meant to see, she couldn't help but tear up as she skimmed them, her heart breaking at each dream she knew would go unachieved, and each chance that never was, and how they never would be.

It was when she got farther in that she could visibly see the difference. October fifth had been the last smooth, flat page to be seen.

_"Somehow for the second time this week, that group of idiots showed up to run drills coincidentally the **same** time I started out onto the track. I know I saw them in my rearview mirror on my way to the school, but they must have doubled back after I pulled into the lot. The whole point of running in the evening is to not be bothered by lame pick up lines and catcalls._

_In other news, Kathryn and I have a date next weekend. Cosima keeps joking that since we met in ceramics class, we should definitely do a 'Ghost' photoshoot. But that I had to be Patrick Swayze. Yeah, right."_

Pushing her glasses atop her head, Cosima's flow of tears had greatly increased beyond her realm of knowledge as she was so intently pulled into the neat scrawl of what appeared to be the last happy day her sister had. Pulling away from it, though, caused a new train of logic to crash into her at breakneck speeds. While she was famished for the answers she knew were right in front of her, turning that page felt like an impossibility.

The latter half of the journal was, put simply, a disaster. As she leafed through some of the pages, her heart seemed to stop beating in her chest. In inks both red and black, as well as blue, were scribbled words, nearly filling some pages top to bottom. Some were torn or crumpled, ripped out and shoved back in.

_Slut._

_Idiot._

_You fucking idiot._

_Whore._

_Fucking stupid._

_Garbage. You're nothing but garbage._

Cosima was thankful for the isolation the basement had to offer, for had she been upstairs, had she stayed put in Athena's room, the sobs that leaped out of her lungs would have caused her parents to wake and would have initiated an onslaught of questions that per her late sister's request, Cosima would not be able to answer. It was almost too simple to see, with that last content entry, and the sudden ripple in emotions, shifting beyond belief. How could she have honestly believed these things about herself? It tore Cosima up, but as she turned a crumpled page, what she saw scribed so sloppily caused her to throw the journal and break for the nearest trashcan. Her nearly empty stomach only had bile to offer as she heaved and wretched into the bag, the tears spilling over in waves.

_I shouldn't have left my water bottle on the bleachers. I don't remember it, but I know it. I feel it every day. It hurts. It's so empty and so dark. I know it._

_They raped me. And then one of them drove my car down the alley behind the house and the garage, and dumped me with the week's trash._

There was an incomprehensible amount of confusion that was searing Cosima from the inside out. It had been over a month. Over thirty days and she'd never said anything to her. Athena had kept it in, hiding it under the guise of being sick, and Cosima had never questioned it. Why?! Why had she never questioned it?! It was her job to know that something was wrong! More than Athena's sister, she was a _teacher._ She had been looking some of those boys in the face with a smile on her own for weeks, never once knowing that they sat there, a smug and sickening entitled sense of knowing the horrible, terrible things they had done, the things they had gotten away with.

She felt betrayed, not by her sister, but by these young men… these despicable human beings who had been able to live their lives as if nothing had happened. Finally knowing, or at least partially knowing, it was never what Cosima could have predicted, and she hated it. She hated that someone she loved so much had been suffering with something so debilitating and she hadn't been able to see it. All of the things she should have done, and yet, she never could have known.

After several minutes of convulsing over the garbage can, Cosima fell to the side, her violently shaking hand extending for the journal and the several leaves of paper that had been knocked loose. She quickly thumbed over the pages toward the back of the journal, looking for later entries, ones closer to the date of the shooting, ones that might have explained what had gotten worse, but there was one page in the very bag, the very last, that seemed to have been damaged by water. What was different about this page, aside from the watermarks, was that the writing was still sloppy, but more composed, and there, at the bottom, was very visibly, Cosima's name.

_11/12_

_Friday, Jonah cornered me after calc and demanded to know if I'd been a 'good girl,' and if I'd 'kept my mouth shut.' Thankfully, Ms Duncan happened to come back into the room, scaring him off._

_Tonight, I told Mom and Dad I was going to the library to study. I went to Uncle Cal's instead because I know he's hunting in Ontario. His revolver and a couple of extra rounds were in the drawer._

_I can't live like this anymore. If I give them the chance, they'll kill me. I can't let that happen. I won't let them hurt me again. I won't let them hurt anyone else ever again. I can't let them ruin anymore lives. I just can't._

_Cosima… I…_

_I'm _

There was no last word. No sorry, no anything. It was just left hanging there, like an empty noose over the condemned. "You're what?!" Cosima nearly choked, staring up expectantly at the ceiling. "You're sorry?! You're done?! You're what, Athena Jane?! You left me, and now, I have more questions than ever! And where are you to answer them?!" Her hands flailed with her gesticulations, knocking the journal off of her knee and sending it spinning in the air until it collided with the storage box, toppling it over, causing something to fall out.

Crawling forward on her knees, Cosima brushed the box aside to see a small, elongated chunk of plastic. As she reached out with her thin, shaky fingers to pick it up, another wave of nausea ripped through her like high tide and she was hysterical with sobs once more.

No, Athena was not sorry, she was not done (although, in a sense, she very obviously was). What she had been, though, was something far more horrifying.

She had been pregnant.


	3. Chapter 3

"_Just go home._"

It should have been simple enough. In fact, the only thing that seemed more logical, at least in Delphine Cormier's eyes, was to take up permanent residence in the basement of the hospital where she worked. Since the incident, a mere three weeks prior, she had found it far easier to bury herself in shifts at work, getting lost in the hustle and bustle of an emergency room rather than sinking straight to the very bottom of her thoughts, which she knew to be a grotesquely dangerous place.

After a twelve hour shift, six to six, it should have been a no-brainer to go home, uncork a bottle of wine, and kick back for the rest of the night, but there was something tugging her in another direction. As she sat behind the wheel of her car, she couldn't take her eyes off of the back entrance, simply observing as people slowly filtered in one or two at a time.

One of her fellow nurses had brought up the idea of the therapy group the day before, mentioning that his sister was best friends with one of the boys that had passed and that the counseling group had really been lending her a helping hand. For Delphine, though, coping and moving along the stages of grief had not been any form of an option for her. In fact, it never really had. She was the type who moved on from things, giving a valiant attempt to bury the way she felt, the way she dealt with things. It was so much easier for her to end a phone call with her mother or father by saying that she was at work than it was to make an effort to see them, to be reminded of how miserable they were without their son, how miserable she was without her brother.

Her torso tilted forward, the warm skin of her forehead pressing to the cool leather of the steering wheel. "_Merde, Delphine, just go home._" She felt so torn, so conflicted, not knowing what it was she was supposed to do. Some part of her knew that to heal, she was going to have to grieve, and to grieve, she was going to have to admit to the fact that she was not as okay as she would prefer to let on. It was a systematic breakdown of how she handled things, and a habitual part of her was more than hesitant at the notion of letting that go._  
><em>

Checking the time on her phone, she knew that her open window of opportunity was growing closer to shutting with each second that ticked toward six thirty. After an eternal five minutes, she found an ability to move, pulling the keys back out of the ignition of her car, a small voice inside her head crying out in protest. By the time her rubber soles were firmly on the asphalt, and the heavy metal door thudded shut behind her, she knew that she'd already made the effort, and had no other real choice but to follow through. Her thumb slid over the smooth surface of the keyfob that was clutched in her hand, but before she could push down on the lock button, another 'beep' of security sounded just on the other side of the car adjacent to hers, causing her to jump, clearly startled. What seemed to strike her attention even more so, though, was who she saw as she looked across the silver cartop.

Even in the light of the setting sun, which was so very close to disappearing behind the horizon line, Delphine immediately felt a sense of recognition- and dread- spill over her like a downpour. The last time she had looked into those eyes, a confused rage had her in its grasp, but it had since faded, leaving yet another confused woman in its wake. Instead of feeling an impossible swell of an angering tide, a sense of regret lapped over her feet, the sands of sorrow burrowing into every nook and cranny of her toes, only to be trapped there, left as a reminder, showing up in so many random places for days to come. She was fifteen all over again, so wiry and awkward, so unsure of herself, as if the last fourteen years had accounted for nothing.

Seeing Cosima so close did not regulate why it felt that they were miles apart, though only one vehicle separated them. Second guessing herself the entire way, Delphine raised a single hand in surrender, offering the smallest of waves. "_Hi,_" she squeaked timidly. She was not sure what she expected in return, but what she got was something she had not braced herself for. Immediately, Cosima's chin tucked toward her chest and she floated forward, almost like a specter of sorts, a haunting of the mourning woman that had showed up at Jacques' funeral not a week prior. Before she could stop it, the rejection was skating off of her tongue, slipping dangerously through her teeth. "_Well alright then._" It was a mere grumble, just barely kissing the line between inaudible and audible, but it's reach was just far enough that the other woman instantaneously stiffened, her gliding coming to a screeching halt as the soles of her flats scraped heavily against the pavement, causing ever hair on the back of Delphine's neck to stand on end. In the passing of a second, on the turn of a dime, in the blink of an eye, a storm had rolled in and she was about to see every inch of Hurricane Cosima, up close and personal.

With her heart pounding insistently in her ears, an angered rosiness began to climb up her cheeks and Cosima's hands balled at her sides. "No," she managed sharply, turning on her heel, wagging her finger at Delphine in a way that appeared far more menacing than it actually was. "No, you don't get to do that. You don't get to be angry with _me._" Her jaw tightened and her eyes were ablaze, her gaze burning a hole right through the very center of Delphine. She had crossed the space between them, leaving no more than a couple of inches between them, her finger still pointedly aimed at the other woman. Delphine's eyes were wide and she had backed up into her car, a lump rising in her throat; this had not been any reaction that she could have ever imagined eliciting from the same woman who had been so insistent on grieving the loss of her students. Something had shifted in her; it was more than obvious. She may have been small, but she was proving herself a force to be reckoned with.

"I'm... I-" She wanted to apologize, but before the words could even consider venturing to the tip of her tongue, she found that she was cut short. She had lit a fuse that she could not extinguish and instead, needed to simply watch as it all exploded back in her face.

"Save it," Cosima snapped, furiously reaching up to adjust her glasses, perhaps only disheveling them even more. "You know, I felt _sorry _for you. I felt so sorry for all of you. You, your family. All of the other families. And I was okay with the idea that no one would feel sorry for me, or for my family. I _get_ the idea of moral perception, and I had no reason to dispute it."

Delphine's forehead wrinkled; Cosima had implied tense for a reason. "Had?" She asked dryly, still a bit nervous at the close proximity between them, though the other woman was a good head shorter than herself.

Cosima's blood was boiling and it was inhibiting her senses, causing the mental locks she had on particular things to click open so effortlessly, releasing all of the dark things tucked away inside. "But then I found out the truth. The truth of how my own _sister_ couldn't talk to me about what had happened in her life. The truth of how a group of boys thought it was okay to view her was nothing more than _property_. How _your brother_ was one of those boys." Her voice shook unevenly and her heart was nearly in her throat. She had been trying so valiantly to hold back the tears, but she knew herself to be only so strong. A few slipped through her grasp, spilling down her cheeks in a mixture of pain, anger, and a desperation for someone to just simply understand that not everything had to be what it seemed. "_The truth,_" she started, leaning into Delphine a bit more, her voice dropping incredibly low. "_Is that your brother and his friends not only **took** something from my sister, but one of them **gave** her something that set this all into motion. Something she just couldn't live with._" Her lip quivered as she backed up a step, watching as the sickening realization forced itself into Delphine's comprehension.

Just as simply as the wind blew, Delphine's entire world had shifted. It was true, she was aware, that it could be said her relationship with Jacques was not the best. He had been a rebellious teenager and she had moved on toward a career, toward a life of her own. He sought no advice or guidance from her, and she was fine with that. Yes, her parents had their hands full with him, but never once did she think that he had fallen so far off the main way. There would be time later for blaming herself, for being angry with herself that she hadn't stopped this from happening. Now, though, she had a very upset Cosima still so very close. Her heart was pounding so hard that it felt like her ribcage would be nowhere near strong enough to contain the pieces as it broke apart beneath the surface. There was a lump in her throat and a block on any rational thought.

It would have been the easiest thing in the world to call her a liar, but as their eyes locked across those few inches of space, Delphine could see Cosima's honesty nearly bleeding out of her. She had somehow found this information, and instead of spouting it off to any outlet that would listen, she appeared to be chewing it down, biting it back. It appeared to only see the surface when she simply couldn't do it any more. Even then, she chose to divulge the information to a sole source who might somehow possibly understand, who might care enough to realize that this was a solid reality and not just some story concocted by someone who was grieving in all the wrong ways. If she was so shaken and so compelled to be heard, Delphine understood that it was her duty to listen, to comprehend, and to fully rationalize. Slowly, she nodded, and Cosima's hard exterior slowly started to ebb away, finally releasing her the moment Delphine spoke.

"I'm sorry."

The words, how gravelly and broken they sounded as they collided with Cosima's ears, seemed to give more of Delphine away than her quivering lip or the few tears that had streaked down her cheeks. They revealed her honesty, and her heart. Those words, and how they struggled to stay whole, spoke volumes beyond reasonable comprehension. Even more than that, it was the very first time since Athena's passing that Cosima had heard those words from _anyone._ Her lips pressed together and she attempted to imprison the tears that were bound to escape, but it was of no use. In a sudden rush, everything was different. Someone had finally, _finally_ acknowledged her loss and acknowledged the fact that it wasn't some teenage spat of anger. Athena had been hurt, felt backed into a corner, and she did the only thing that made sense to her. It was horrifying and something that never should have happened, but at the very least, there were two people in the world who understood why.

Several tears spilled down Cosima's cheeks, being halted and deterred by the rim of her glasses as it pressed to the apple of her cheek. Her hands trembled at her sides, raising one to wipe her face dry with the sleeve of her sweater. All too quickly, she realized that she had disclosed something she'd vowed to keep to herself; she felt vulnerable, like Delphine had accomplished something in getting her to crack, though it was not the case at all. "I um... I'll go. So you can... yeah," she managed, pointing back at her car, and then waving a hand toward the door to the hospital.

"Non, non," Delphine, replied, shaking her head. "You don't have to leave because I am here. Come, we'll go in together."

Although she felt like she was on a timed countdown marked for falling apart, there was something about the invitation that Cosima just could not decline. It wasn't like it changed things, only that someone else finally understood the burden she was carrying, and as it turned out, that didn't have to be such a horrible thing.


	4. Chapter 4

It had been two weeks, a mere two weeks that were uncomplicated and not overly long, since the night that Delphine had her confrontation with Cosima in the parking lot of the hospital, and while she was not in so much turmoil, she was still not completely resolved. She had been so impossibly confused for the longest of times, but that exchange between the two of them, it had really caused Delphine to take a second look at the big picture. She was able to better understand everything that had happened, and why. That was something that she could never quite thank the other woman for, because she was sure there was no proper way to string any line of words together to cover it.

Although they had both forced through an emotionally trying time, neither of them had sought out anything more. It seemed to be one moment of weakness, of needing someone to listen on Cosima's part, and if Delphine had not been completely mistaken, it was because she was ashamed of the way she had reacted, though Delphine would never fault her for it. She had spent far too many hours thinking about how hard it had to be for Cosima, to hold something so poisonous inside and lock it away without a second thought. She had to have her motives for not having told anyone else, but Delphine could not conceive a single one. Perhaps that was the greatest way in which they differed.

While her mind often wandered to thoughts of the petite chemistry teacher, Delphine had loosened the grip she had on working herself to the point of forgetting. Instead, she had used her spare time to catch up on a few books, still working to keep her mind occupied and busy. Some were old medical textbooks, some were fiction novels that helped her get lost in an alternate dimension. They were just outlets; she needed a way to remind herself to stop being angry and start grieving, but some days, it just wasn't that simple.

Despite easing up on her work schedule, in a Chicago winter, there were some days and nights when getting out on time was simply out of the question. It was only two days before Christmas and a powerful storm had rolled in on the horizons, blanketing the city in a foot and a half of snow. Accident rates increased by nearly sixty percent and the number of frostbite cases ran surprisingly high. As a result, Delphine had been held over in the ER by just over three hours, making it out of the employee parking lot of the hospital just shy of nine thirty. With the way the roads were slick and treacherously icy, it was smarter to drive slower and take longer getting home. It was a relief that the majority of those who _had_ to be out on the road were wise enough to decrease their speed. Or at least, most of them were.

Home for Delphine was a short shot across I-5 and down a few residential roads. It was simple enough on a normal evening, but in the dark, attempting to navigate through the onslaught of snow, it was next to impossible. She was careful to keep a sufficient amount of distance between herself and the car in front of her, whose tail lights were just barely visible some fifteen yards ahead of her.

After another five or so minutes, she had struggled to sit up in the driver's seat, doing her best to see what she could, which, as it would turn out, was not exactly what she would have liked. Squinting a bit, a true scene of horror unfolded right before her eyes. The car in front of her crawled through the intersection; they had the right-away, whereas the intersecting street was posted with stop signs on either side. It didn't matter, though, because the pickup came careening through the intersection, broadsiding the passenger's side of the car in front of her, flipping it several times. The truck had veered to the side, but was still upright.

In an instant, Delphine went into nurse mode. She pulled off to the side of the road, turning on her hazards and immediately fished out her phone, once she was safely off the main way, punching in 9-1-1. "Hi yes, my name is Delphine Cormier and I'm calling to report a bad accident. Yeah, I-Five at Turner Road. A truck blew through a stop sign, slamming into the car in front of me. The truck is smashed up pretty bad, but the car flipped too many times for me to count. I'm making my way over to see if anyone's inside and if they're okay now." The operator informed her that with how bad the roads were, the quickest ambulance was at least ten to fifteen minutes away. "Understood. I'm a nurse at Evanston General. I'm going to do what I can to recover any passengers in the car and assess the damage." There was a pit in her stomach, twisting her up in knots; this didn't look good. She hung up with a soft thanks as she got down on her knees, the snow instantly soaking through her scrubs. "Is anyone in there?" she called loudly, unable to keep the trembling out of her voice. She cleared her throat, scooting forward toward the passenger's side window, which was closest to the road. "If anyone's in there, call out!" Her words were a little stronger, a little more urgent.

Just as she started to move away to search the area, she heard a cough, immediately followed by a cry. "_I... I'm here,_" a woman inside managed. Instantly, Delphine's eyes widened in shock. After what she had seen, after she replayed it over and over again in her head, she had been almost certain that no one could have survived what she had witnessed. Her stomach had dropped several stories beneath the ground and she was scrambling, trying to figure out what to do, what to say.

"Okay, good, good. I'm a nurse at a nearby hospital. I've already called nine one one and there's an ambulance on the way."

The faceless voice inside was weak, fading by every passing moment, but Delphine had a determination about her. If she had ever believed that everything happened for a reason, it was especially strong in that moment. She had been behind that car because if she hadn't, who knew how long the accident scene could have gone unnoticed. "_Am-ambulance? Wh-what happened? Wh-where am I? Where... where are my parents?"_

A new tide of panic swelled up in Delphine's chest. "Your parents? Were they with you?" She cleared her voice, sniffling in the cold as the tip of her nose and the apples of her cheeks tinted a dark pink in the biting nip of the wind. "You... you were on I-5 at Turner. Someone hit you." That didn't quite do it justice. It was far worse than that, but Delphine knew that for the poor soul trapped inside, sugar coating things was the best way to go.

Inside the crushed metal, there was a panic growing inside of the chemistry teacher trying to reassemble her thoughts from the last half an hour. The last thing she remembered was dinner with her parents and assuring them that she could safely make it home, that she didn't need to stay. "_No... No. I don't think so," _she managed back, the tears that were forming in her eyes rolling over her forehead. Someone... Someone had hit her? She was in her car? "_I can't m-move. Why... why can't I move?!_" she cried out weakly.

"Hey, hey. Listen to me, okay? I cannot see inside, so I do not know how badly you are hurt. Please try to stay still." Delphine felt so hopeful for this woman, but with each minute that dragged on, she was not sure the odds were pressing in her favor.

"_I'm scared..._" the two lone words were so broken in the silence of the night, just so barely audible over the sound of the snow and the distant wailing of sirens from at least a mile out.

"I know you are," Delphine managed, her own voice sounding a bit choked. It was nothing, though, compared to the strangled sob she let out when she heard a rustling and saw a hand move out onto a part of the roof that was illuminated by a streetlight over head. a few rings were dented on the fingers they adorned, and skin split red over glass shards, but in that moment, she didn't care. She reached out, wrapping her fingers tenderly around the woman's hand, giving it a supportive squeeze. "But that's alright. You're allowed to be scared," she soothed, wrapping her other hand around the woman's fingers in an attempt to keep that part of her warm. "But if you can just hold on for just a little bit longer, help will be here. I'm going to stay right here, okay? I won't leave you, if you stay with me." Her voice had about as much consistency as a skipping stone on water, quaking and wavering over her words. Holding that hand, she wasn't sure what she felt in those moments. She just wanted her to be alright, to be okay and to make it through this. It was vital that if she hadn't been able to save her brother, long before she lost him, that she save this complete stranger. It was a ridiculous complex, but part of Delphine's mental wellbeing was vitally dependent on whether or not she could do her job and make an effort to save someone who needed it.

A mere foot away, consciousness was a fleeting thing for the woman who felt pressure on every inch of her body. Everything was dark, but she was doing her best to simply focus on the voice she could hear from the outside of her car. She could not move her head to see who it was, to get a possible source of comfort from someone who could show her just how bad things were with a simple facial expression. Instead, she gave her all for any form of support, having forced her arm through the small gap of space. Feeling someone else's touch in what could possibly be her last moments was so much more than she knew how to describe. She clutched tightly at the fingers in her grasp, but her hold could only last for so long. What was already dark seemed to grow only darker, causing panic to fill every inch of her being.

"_What are you doing, Cos?" _ She could hear it so clearly, a different voice, slicing right through the void. She tried to form a reply, tried to force the words out of her mouth with as much force as she could, but nothing. "_It's not your time yet. Just hold on a few more minutes. I know you can do it."_

Despite the fact that it felt so surreal, there was something so loud and so clear about the commands given to her. She finally found the breath she needed to make her reply, still somewhere between states of consciousness and unconsciousness. "_B-but Athena... It's s-so... h-hard._"

As Delphine strained to listen for a sustained sign of life from the woman inside, she heard something that did what not even the bone chilling temperatures could do, and froze the blood in her veins, seizing her beating heart with one piercing swipe. Instantaneously, the name, the way it was said, the way it was cried, it all caused a realization to slam into Delphine at such an accelerated rate that her head simply could not keep up. "_Cosima,_" she breathed. Tears had started to pour down her cheeks and she gripped harder at the hand in both of her own. "Cosima!" The word was louder, perhaps even frantic. This was no longer about being a nurse, about respecting her call to duty. No, this was someone she absolutely had to save. "Cosima, hey, listen, it's Delphine. I know that you're freezing, and I know that you're tired, but you have to just do this for me, okay? The sirens are getting closer. It is only a couple more minutes now. I'm right here. I'm with you."

"_Del-delphine?" _Cosima choked out, channeling every last bit of energy she had into giving the other woman's hand another squeeze, telling her she was still there, she was still hanging on. She was terrified, and even then, that was a far cry from an accurate description of just how truly petrified she was. "_I d-don't want to die."_ She hadn't wanted to divulge something so grim, but she had reached a point where she was sure that was what was coming. Despite the fact that Delphine had not outright told her how bad things were, she could tell by the way she spoke, even before they were aware of one another. There was something oddly comforting about having her there, about knowing that if something did happen to her, she didn't have to go out alone.

Hearing Cosima's words broke what was left of Delphine's heart. Did she really think that was what was going to happen? More tears paved down Delphine's cheeks, rolling off to plummet into the snow beneath her. "_Hey, no. No. You're not going to die. I promise you._" It was an awfully big promise to make, but she had a new level of confidence in her. Cosima was too good of a person to die. It wasn't going to end like that. "_Hey! Cosima, listen!" _Delphine glanced to her right and squeezed Cosima's hand harder. "I can see them! They're right at the end of the street. Just hold on, okay!? Just a little bit longer."

She could hear Cosima crying as they cut the sirens and pulled in as close as they could get, immediately starting to pile out, a backboard in hand. Not a minute later, a fire engine pulled up behind them, men jumping into the snow, carrying over a large metal contraption that Delphine knew to be a hydraulic rescue tool. It was _that_ bad. "I'm going to get out of the way so the medics and firemen can help you. Just hang in there, oui?" Letting go of Cosima's hand in that moment was the singlemost difficult thing Delphine had done in her life. She got to her feet and was greeted by a paramedic with a thermal blanket while another beelined for the car. "Her name is Cosima. She's a teacher at the high school." She was thankful, as she looked up, that the people who were in the other car were sitting outside of the car on the ground, but her mind was primarily focused on Cosima. Even as the one paramedic walked her over to get her another blanket in an attempt to dry her off, she couldn't keep her eyes off of the twisted teal metal just yards away, just praying to a god she did not believe in that the woman inside would make it out alive.

When Delphine let go of her hand, an empty fear filled every possible inch of Cosima's being, leaving her desperate and hopeless, but not moments, after, there was another voice, this time one that belonged to a man. "Hey," he said softly, trying to keep her calm. "Cosima, is it? My name is Noah and my friends and I are going to try really hard to get you out, but I need you to answer a couple of questions for me, alright?"

"_Okay,_" she croaked in response, trying to keep from trying any more than she already had.

"Cosima, do you know how old you are?"

"Twenty eight."

"And can you tell me your address?" At this, Cosima let out a sob.

"N-no. I'm s-sorry." There was a loud creak in the metal and it sent a ripple of fear through her, one that gave her just enough adrenaline to get out one last question. "_Delph-delphine? Wh-where is Delphine?!" _Before an answer, meant to soothe, would ever reach her ears, the car shifted again and despite her best efforts, Cosima slipped, falling into an unknown, inescapable darkness.


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note: **I really wish that ffnet had a photo upload option, but since it does not, the best way to read this chapter is on my blog, (evelyneboochu . tumblr dot com / post/100859878497 ...without the spaces). If you cannot, it's probably best to point out that this chapter is in journal form, from Delphine's point of view.

* * *

><p><em>2412/2013_

_4:38am_

_It has been far too long since I took a pen to paper. That_

_most likely has something to do with the insane work sched-_

_ule that I like to so solidly maintain. After the night I've had,_

_though, I couldn't stop myself from buying a notebook in the_

_giftshop. I just needed an outlet, somewhere I could put_

_down all of the buzzing and swarming inside of my head. I_

_think that perhaps I'm still in shock; my hands are still re-_

_covering from being numb and cold; One of the EMTs told_

_me that if I would have been in the snow much longer, I_

_could have gotten frostbite, but I don't care. I would have_

_done it all over again in the blink of an eye._

_The last month has been... well, what the hell can I_

_even call it? I've been holding it all in, bottling it all up like_

_I work at a winery and it's my fucking job. And for what?_

_What good has it done? I've just worked myself to the point_

_of exhaustion and shut out anyone even remotely close to me._

_At first, it was like losing Jacques was the most senseless tra-_

_gedy in the world, like nothing in my entire existence made_

_sense. Is that not what everyone experiences when their life_

_is suddenly filled with so much sorry and sadness that they_

_barely know how to function? I'll admit, coping is not my_

_strong suit, but my insatiable desire to not hurt is enough to_

_trump that out. Working seemed so much easier than tackling_

_those pesky five stages of grief, and I probably would have_

_carried on like that and insisted that I was just fine. It took a_

_serious wake up call, and a good slap in the face- so to speak-_

_to make me understand that the way I was living was, indeed, no_

_life at all. I was filled with so much resentment, and so much_

_anger. I thought that by being angry, it would solve my problems._

_I thought if everyone was impossibly aware of how my brother_

_was so unjustly taken from me, it would help me sleep at night._

_In all of that, though, I have realized that my suffering was cloud-_

_ing my better judgement. Pain shaded the light of the potential_

_my life could have, and I see that now._

_There's something about being so close that you can see how thin_

_the line of life is, and how easy it is to cross it, to fade into some-_

_thing darker, something trapping, something no one can pull back_

_from. That something... it's a terror, a horror that has seeded in the_

_deepest pits of someone's stomach lining, of my stomach lining. It_

_is one of those things that urges you to see life for what it is, to_

_understand that none of us, absolutely none of us, are guaranteed_

_one more minute, or a little while. We don't get to choose where our_

_paths take us, but we convince ourselves that we do. We make decis-_

_ions on a daily basis, thinking we are the ones that decide what_

_happens to us, but it couldn't be further from the truth. No one_

_knows, and no one gets to decide. It's not just a decision, not some_

_conscious choice that gets to be made. They're works of the world,_

_the way it happens and the way it has to be. There's no intervening,_

_no way of predicting, and as humans, that leaves us feeling ultima-_

_tely vulnerable and unconfortable. We have lived so impossibly long_

_with a stiffening fear of our own mortality, but in being so_

_scared, we still manage to take those minutes, those seconds for_

_granted._

_No matter how much I wish I could stop thinking about it, I_

_can't. I just keep seeing the snow fall in the light of the street_

_lamp, glancing up for just a second, and then looking back to_

_see... Sheer horror. I've seen car accidents happen before, but the_

_way it just rolled and rolled, my stomach only lurched with each_

_revolution. It seemed like my only option to try and help, to see_

_if there was anything I could do just to help. I never could have_

_known. It never would have even crossed my mind; how could it_

_have? How could I have ever, in my entire existence, predicted that_

_I would be on my way home and end up working as hard as I_

_possibly could to save someone's... no, not just someone, to save_

_Cosima's life. Holding her hand in the snow, I just wanted her_

_to live. I just wanted to make it okay, to make her okay. I wanted,_

_in that moment more than anything, to be able to pull her_

_through it, to make sure she made it. Her parents... they had_

_already lost so much... They did not deserve to lose her to._

_I met them a few hours ago; I went home for a change of_

_clothes and immediately turned around, heading back to the place_

_I never leave. I've been here since a little after ten, and they_

_arrived some time around eleven when Cosima was still in_

_surgery. then a little bit after. I just stood out in the hall, feeling like I_

_had no real right to be there, but I heard her mother sobbing_

_when Doctor Manning went in to brief them about post-op. I didn't_

_ask any questions when they left a short bit after two, because I_

_know that not only did I not belong there, or have any reason_

_for being there, but I did not have the right. I don't even think_

_that they knew who I was, or had any idea of the exchanges that_

_Cosima and I have shared over the past. I know I may be selfish_

_in thinking it, but I'm glad. I'm relieved that I can just be a_

_supportive bystander to them. What they did tell me, though, was_

_that the doctors weren't sure when she would come to, and that_

_after losing their other daughter, they couldn't bear to sit around_

_to watch it happen to the remaining one. It was an emotional_

_breaking point in the conversation, but her mother took me by the_

_arms and thanked me. She told me that I was her darling daugh-_

_ter's guardian angel and though I dismissed her almost immediat-_

_ely, I did promise that while they could not stay, I would. I knew,_

_just by the softened looks on their faces, that it was a gesture_

_they both needed at that moment in time._

_I've been at the end of her bed for the last two and a half_

_hours and the nurse in me can't stop from checking her vitals_

_every five minutes, just needing constant assurance that she's_

_going to be okay. I know nothing I do at this point can help, but_

_I just keep hearing it, over and over again, like a faint whisper_

_in the back of my head that calls out to dust my ears, to_

_remind them of what it was like to have to hear someone so_

_fear-laden with the prospect of dying and knowing there was not_

_one logical thing in the universe that I could do to ease those_

_terrors. I think I have spent my life striving to help people, to make_

_their life, in any way, easier and so finally coming to fully face_

_the idea that I could not, it distorted my perception of how 'pure'_

_the world really can be._

_I cannot stop thinking about her parents, about the holes they_

_carry with them constantly in their hearts. I cannot stop thinking_

_about the way Cosima called out her sister's name as she was_

_squeezing my hand. I cannot stop thinking about how maybe none_

_of this would have had to happen. I cannot stop running over in_

_my head how different things could be if the world was a just_

_and fair place. I cannot stop wondering, at which point, the world_

_had to come with a how-to survival guide just to make it through_

_the day._

_When I look at her in the dim light of the lamp next to her_

_hospital bed, I feel this surreal, strange feeling at the sight of all_

_the bruises and cuts that mark and brand her face. It hurts,_

_causing a pain that is far too expansive to form into words that_

_originate in any language. All of the ache, though is wrapped_

_snugly by the realization that she is alive. In a split second, her life_

_had to change, but she still has it. It is still hers, no matter how_

_trying and how difficult it is about to become, if she can just_

_somehow find it within the deepest confines of her soul to open_

_her eyes again._

_A 'miracle' is that doctors like to call something that should not_

_be, or should not happen. It is that word that only substitutes_

_'impossible' because obviously, it is possible. All of the RNs and all_

_of the doctors keep telling me that it was a miracle that I was_

_there at the exact right time in the middle of such a raging_

_storm, but it was no miracle. I do not believe in miracles, nor do I_

_believe in the art of coincidence. It has been a very long time,_

_perhaps since I was old enough to form cohesive thought, that I_

_was conscious enough to believe in the very thought of something_

_happening simply because it should, because it needed to. I believe_

_that our lines, the ways we walk through our lives, are not linear,_

_they do not, in any way, make the slightest bit of sense. We, as_

_human beings, are far from singular, or linear, in the way we_

_perceive... well, life. Nothing is every a 'one way' trip, because_

_there is absolutely no logic in justifying a straight path, with_

_no deviations. It simply does not exist. That is where the beauty_

_of being human comes into play. We are far too impossibly com-_

_plex to make things simple, to reduce them down into a more_

_manageable state of consumption. It is not in our genes; even in_

_the beginning, those first signs of human life, despite how_

_'barbaric' it may have been, the complexities in wanting to build,_

_to grow, far exceeds the claim of simplification of pre-maturely_

_established intelligence. As generations pass, it's a progression of_

_collective knowledge that has only ever grown. In being so_

_intricate, we weave in on ourselves, creating quilts of emotions so_

_complex that they then become strong, durable, like they could_

_the weight of the world that falls down around them. In that, we_

_grow. We work toward any adaptations of that strength that we_

_can humanly manage._

_I suppose the later it gets, the more candid I get with myself._

_When she finally wakes up, I will probably be the very last_

_person that Cosima would ever want to see in her hospital room._

_More than that, she most likely will not even remember the acci-_

_dent at all. I do not have motives for being here, outside of_

_wanting to know that she is going to be okay. I guess more than_

_that, even, I just want her to know that someone is there for her,_

_no matter what has become of her past. Despite all that has_

_happened, the one thing I am absolutely certain of is that Cosima_

_Niehaus is a good person, who more than anything, deserves to_

_live out the life she was blessed with. Maybe I am nothing shy_

_of selfish in being here, in staying, because I want to assure_

_myself that I did not let her down when she was in need of_

_someone to rely on. I can hear her crying, in my memories, and I_

_can hear her saying that she did not want to die. So please do not,_

_Cosima. Please do not die. Your family, your parents need you._

_Your students need you. Your fellow teachers need you. In some_

_strangely weird connected kind of way, I think... No, I know that_

_I need you, too. It's so strange, and it's impossible to articulate, but I_

_know it to be true. Life has pulled us from different directions,_

_and I would not be true to myself if I did not believe that it was_

_for very distinct reasons. However parallel our roads have been,_

_their inevitability in becoming perpendicular has changed things_

_for both of us in ways we might never understand. Maybe when_

_she comes to, she will want nothing to do with me, or anything I_

_have to say, but until then, I will not give up. I will not give up the_

_hope, or on her. She has come so far, through so much, and I_

_refuse to believe that this is it for her. Her path does not end_

_here. However hard things are going to be here for her, I suppose_

_it is important for me that she know she will not have to endure_

_them alone._

_I just looked at the clock._

_It's 7:49._

_It's Christmas Eve._


	6. Chapter 6

The holidays were usually a time of family and happiness, but it was hard to maintain such a notion when those very things seemed eons away? Many years before, Delphine had spent Christmas' Eve with her parents, marathoning Christmas films and brewing up hot chocolate by the pot full. Things, over the course of time, as was inevitable, were bound to change. This year, she had found herself relieved when Scott, one of the guys she had first interned with, volunteered to cover her shift, seeming to understand just how important it was to be in that room, at the foot of the bed of a woman she was not sure would desire her presence when she came to. Even through the several times they came and went, picking her up for and bringing her back from surgery after surgery, Delphine rarely left her room. Her frustration had mounted; though she fully understood, no one was telling her anything. It was part of the confidentiality clause; she wasn't family. She knew that. Somehow, though, it was still far more frustrating than she wanted to let on to. By eleven o' clock Christmas morning, she had totaled out at three surgeries, her parents coming and going for each one, staying between the first pair and returning for the third after a night at home trying to sleep.

It was after the third that Delphine had gone for coffee while Doctor Bowles spoke to them about the condition of their daughter and had run into Scott, who was on a short break.

"How's your friend?" he posed innocently enough, sliding into the seat across from Delphine.

Hesitating only a moment, her palms tightened slightly around the coffee cup between them as she cleared her throat to answer. "She's…" What? _Not my friend? Okay? Alive? _Instead, something else entirely tumbled from her lips, perhaps saving her the anguish of admitting any of the other responses that immediately bubbled to mind. "…out of surgery."

He offered a small, slight nod, and reached across the table to give her arm a light pat. "It's going to be okay. I know people say it, and it's really hard to believe, but you have to believe in something, and with as much time as you've been spending here, I'd say you believe in her."

Her expression went lax and her eyes softened, glassing over without any form of permission. Her heart was squeezing in her chest. "Am I that obvious?" she managed out through a nervous laugh. He'd hit the nail right on the head; She _did _believe in Cosima, more than anyone could possibly understand. What she needed, though, was the relief of knowing that it wasn't for nothing.

"Delphine, you've been here for three days straight. You're here on _Christmas. _You told Tony that you went home, but I know you slept in one of the beds in the nurse's lounge because you wanted to be close if something happened. Marion even told me that she had to smack your hands from checking her charts."

Delphine's cheeks flushed a dark red and she bowed her head, torn between shame and embarrassment, like she was a child who had been caught with her hand in the cookie jar. "I know it is the family's decision whether or not they want to disclose what has happened, and they obviously do not, but I… I guess I just worry. I was there, I…" She hesitated, a lump quivering in her throat. "I saw how bad it was, and I just… Know it is going to be a long, long process for her to get her life back to where it was before all of this happened." She breathed a shaky, nervous laugh, running her hands through her hair, her curls immediately tumbling back down into their places, as if they had never once been rustled. "She and I… I do not know. I guess I feel responsible." Scott opened his mouth to say something, but she shook her head, continuing. "I know it was not my fault. I know that. But… things between us have been weird, strange even. And I just… feel responsible for _her_, I guess." As soon as she stopped speaking, her cheeks were aflame again and her hands jetted up to cover her face. "I sound like a lunatic." Her muffled words were quiet, discouraged.

Scott's lips turned down at the corner and he leaned forward, sighing softly. "You sound like a good person, Delphine. Because you are one. You feel responsible because you were there, and because you probably went through something not very many people will ever have to in their lifetime. You want her to be okay because if she's not, that makes you the last person she truly had there for her, and I can't imagine that's an easy pill to swallow." He paused for a moment as she lowered her hands, glancing across the table at him. "But I just know you won't have to find out what that feels like. Maybe it's the optimist in me, but I just want so desperately to believe that good people become better people when they fight through bad things. Your friend, she's going to be no different."

Delphine felt the tiniest bit of a smile tug at her lips and was able to muster a nod in agreement before he declared that he had to get back to work and that she needed to just hang in there for as long as she possibly could. As he disappeared out of the cafeteria and around the corner, Delphine found herself fighting back the overwhelming emotional tide that was washing in over her. Hearing things like that, knowing that people saw her in those ways, it was all so much to take in on top of every other thing she had been trying to cope with for so long. She had been loading on the blame for her brother's actions and the loss of his life, but some part of her was finally starting to get it. She couldn't save _everyone_, but that didn't mean she had to give up on trying, it simply meant that she had to find it in her own heart to learn to forgive herself when she couldn't succeed.

After an intentionally time-consuming walk around the hospital halls, Delphine's tired legs seemed to carry her to the spot they most recently deemed home; in front of Cosima's room. Her parents had gone, sometime within the last hour, if she had to guess, and the room was quiet— she was still asleep, and a large part of Delphine wanted to ask the attending if she was still sedated, but realized that it was moot; there was no point in asking, because it did not change the outcome of what was going to happen. She was going to find herself posted up in the chair at the foot of Cosima's bed, which had been modified over the last couple of nights with a pillow and blanket to make it a bit more comfortable, though when it came down to it, it was still a hospital chair. It didn't matter, though. She had come to find ways to occupy her time, whether it was reading books or writing in the small journal she had purchased in the gift shop, or curling up for a small nap on the boxy couch by the window of the room. It wasn't as easy as she wanted it to be, mostly because she found it incredibly difficult to focus on what was right in front of her when she was checking every other minute to see if, even for a second, Cosima would just open her eyes. With the days wearing on, though, her attention was drawing back in bits and pieces. Perhaps subconsciously, she had been losing hope. Never once would she admit it, but it did seem a very feasible possibility.

The teal and black watch strapped to her wrist informed her that it was ten thirty and Christmas day was drawing to a close. It had been good to hear from her own parents, who were absolute angels in understanding her desire to keep to her post within the hospital. She recognized the fact that to some people, it had to seem absurd, but to her, it made all the sense in the world, and if the people who were closest to her could understand, then she needed to ask for no more. With how complicated things had become in the passing weeks, especially during the holiday season, the best approach forward in Delphine's life seemed to simplify things, to focus only on the things that held pressing concerns, like her job, and her current task at hand. She felt as though it was only a matter of time before people around her started asking questions that she was not sure she could answer; Scott had been positive, in every sense of the word, but she feared that not everyone else could comprehend in the ways he was able to. It would have normally taken a recollection of advice her mother had once given her, to not take weight to the things other people said, but Cosima just seemed to be a different subject entirely, one that might have been more sensitive in subject that Delphine preferred to admit.

After a few scribbles in her journal, Delphine found herself digging through her bag to pull out a book she had brought along to pass the time. The dark blue hardcover felt grainy beneath her fingertips, causing a small smile to curl up the corners of her lips. It was a favorite over the years that she had read time and time again, only to find herself reading it anew each and every time. Her fingers ran over the smoothed, raised letters on the cover, tracing each one out individually. _'The Book of Lost Things.' _She cracked open the cover and slid her fingers over the pages, pulling them apart where a small piece of paper marked where she had previously stopped reading, and picked up where she had left off, humming a quiet Christmas carol beneath her breath. It was strange; the foot and a half of snow outside the hospital windows so clearly screamed that it was Christmas, but it didn't feel it. The joy, the cheer, it had all faded by the wayside due to the insurmountable course of obstacles that had dropped into her life at the most unexpected times. Yet, there she sat, occasionally glancing at the small tree she had put up in the corner of the room, unable to stop the small smile from happening across her lips. It was the holidays, it was _Christmas _and there was not a place in the world she would have preferred to have been. Unlike the time of Thanksgiving, a mere month before, this was a time when she was of clear mind enough to put things into perspective and take time to view the journey she'd been forced to take over the course of the year.

It was ironic, though, finding herself in so many of the words she read. Her father had always told her that it seemed most people found things at the precise right time, when they needed it most. Despite her many rereadings of such a favorite book, she found a solace from choosing it that particular night, finding herself twisting and curled up in the words scrawled on the page. She was so lost in them, in fact, that her nervous habit of checking the other occupant of the room had started to stagger, causing her to miss something very important. She was so absorbed in the distant far-off fictional world that it took a quiet cough to get her attention, sounding dry and soft. Her eyesight lifted immediately to take in the sight of a very disoriented Cosima blinking in the light of the room, adjusting to the bright light overhead and the way her mouth felt like it was lined with sandpaper as she attempted to make sound, any sound.

"Hey," Delphine managed softly, moving for the pitcher and paper cup on the bedside table, filling it with water as she tucked her book beneath her arm. She lifted it to Cosima's lips, allowing her to drink. Cosima's eyes bore the confusion she felt, causing Delphine's face to soften.

"_Wh-what happened?_" she managed, attempting to sit up a bit more, but instead wincing and crying out in pain.

"Hey, hey. Do not move, okay? You… you were in a bad accident and you are in the hospital. You are hurt pretty badly..." That ever-present confusion was still a vastly deep well in Cosima's gaze, and Delphine could sense that she was searching for more, but was not cognizant enough to pose the questions herself. "Ironically, I um… Was driving behind you. I saw what happened and.. well, I didn't even know it was you. I've… I've been here since. Your parents have been coming and going. They left a few hours ago. I'll go call them now—" Before she could finish, Cosima's head was lolling back and forth on the pillow in protest.

"Please, n-no. N-not y-yet."

Delphine's lips turned down at the corners and her eyes glassed over the slightest bit, almost unnoticeably. Maybe she could understand it, if she put herself in Cosima's shoes. She was still trying to put all of the pieces back together, the biggest one being that she did not understand what Delphine, of all people, was doing at her bedside.

Cosima's eyes shifted downward to the piece of literature tucked neatly beneath Delphine's arm, and the tiniest twitch of a smile graced her lips. Catching this, Delphine glanced down and picked it up holding it up questioningly. "Would you like me to read to you?" She couldn't fight the smile that overtook every inch of her expression when Cosima's head bobbed just barely.

"_Please,_" she managed quietly, her lips pulling apart to reveal those pearly whites in the smallest sliver of a smile. "_What t-time is it?_"

Delphine glanced down at her watch and a light chuckle escaped her lips. "It's eleven fifty four. Which means six more minutes of Christmas."

"_It's C-christmas?_" There was a hint of confusion in her voice, but Delphine answered with a nod. Cosima's eyes slid closed and for a moment, she looked so deathly and so peaceful at the same time that it was alarming. Delphine's heart stopped in the brief moment before her eyes reopened, only beating again after she exhaled the breath she was holding. Despite her better judgement, she pulled her chair closer to the edge of Cosima's bed, getting comfortable in it as she set the book she had been holding open in her lap. "_Merry Christmas, Delphine," _she managed, glancing over at the other woman.

"Merry Christmas, Cosima."

"_What… What are you r-reading to m-me this evening?" _she posed in a stammered whisper, her throat still impossibly hoarse.

Delphine smiled, showing her the spine of the book, thought she instantly realized that Cosima probably could not read it without her glasses. "It's a favorite of mine. It's called "The Book of Lost Things." Do you want me to start from the beginning, or from where I am now?"

"_Current page is fine,_" she chimed softly.

Delphine glanced down at the scribe on the pages before her and quickly gave a scan, attempting to remember where she was in the book. Upon realizing, though, her face softened and her lips turned down at the corners, causing her to hesitantly start to turn the page, but Cosima clicked her tongue quietly in protest.

"_Don't cheat,_" she chastised in a gentle murmur, a sly and tiny smirk pulling up on the corner of her lips, just barely.

Delphine smiled, an unruly and wild smile that caused a glint to sparkle in her eyes; the small flicker of a flame was growing, burning brighter inside of Cosima. It seemed to dim, almost immediately, though, when she remembered why she had not wanted to read what was on the page to begin with. She hesitated for a moment, pressing her lips together as her eyes skimmed the page so that she could find the spot she had previously stopped reading.

"'Let me tell you the truth about the world to which you so desperately want to return," she started, a small lump quivering in her throat as she glanced up at Cosima, so tight and snug in the confines of hospital bedsheets, so unaware of just how the last three days had gone. More than that, she'd gotten a much needed respite from the chaos that their lives had been, that the whole community had been. The finely printed scribe, though, was bound to be an all-too-real reminder. She cleared her throat, beginning to continue. "It is a place of pain and suffering and grief. When you left it, cities were being attacked. Women and children were being blasted to pieces or burned alive by bombs dropped from planes flown by men with wives and children of their own. People were being dragged from their homes and shot in the street." She stopped again, her teeth digging gently into her lower lip. "Your world is tearing itself apart, and the most amusing thing of all is that it was little better before the war started. War merely gives people an excuse to indulge themselves further, to murder with impunity. There were wars before it, and there will be wars after it, and in between people will fight one another and hurt one another and maim one another and betray one another, because that is what they have always done." Though she didn't want to admit it, or let Cosima see, a few tears spilled down her cheeks. Part of it hurt, stung to know that in a way, the words she loved so much mirrored a hell she never thought she would have to live.

"And even if you avoid warfare and violent death, little boy, what else do you think life has in store for you? You have already seen what it is capable of doing. It took your mother from you, drained her of health and beauty, and then cast her aside like the withered, rotten husk of a fruit. It will take others from you too, mark me. Those whom you care about-lovers, children-will fall by the wayside, and your love will not be enough to save them. Your health will fail you. You will become old and sick. Your limbs will ache, your eyesight will fade, and your skin will grow lined and aged. There will be pains deep within that no doctor will be able to cure. Diseases will find a warm, moist place inside you and there they will breed, spreading through your system, corrupting it cell by cell until you pray for the doctors to let you die, to put you out of your misery, but they will not. Instead you will linger on, with no one to hold your hand or soothe your brow, as Death comes and beckons you into his darkness. The life you left behind you is no life at all. Here, you can be king, and I will allow you to age with dignity and without pain, and when the time comes for you to die, I will send you gently to sleep and you will awaken in the paradise of your choosing, for each man dreams his own heaven." As she lifted her head, Cosima bore a serene smile in spite of the heaviness of the words. It was strange, how clearly Delphine could see it all reeling, playing, projecting in Cosima's mind, and how she found a sense of peace in them; Had she dreamed her own heaven in the preceding days? Had she found any sense of happiness in her long, induced slumber?

Puzzled, Delphine closed the book, sliding in the piece of paper to mark her place as she cupped both of her hands over Cosima's. "You're smiling," she commented softly, her tone hiking a bit in question. Of course she didn't understand it, but she sensed that it was for a reason.

"_I am,_" she murmured quietly. "_because you didn't want to read it to me. B-because maybe you were afraid how I'd take that last bit._" At this, Delphine stiffened the slightest bit, her jaw tightening just barely. It was true; someone in her position didn't need barraged with a slew of negative thoughts and folklores. "_But I d-don't feel that way. After all,_" she started, her fingers twitching just slightly to take hold of Delphine's hand, "_You're here to hold my hand, aren't you?_"

Nervously, her hands slid away to rest on the sheet of the bed, causing her to lean back, opening the book once more in her lap. There was an undeniable pink tint to her cheeks and her blonde curls lurched forward as she bowed her head, swinging about her face in an unruly fashion. There was a dry, amused sound that crept from Cosima's lips, causing Delphine to look up once more in alarm.

"_Why _**_are _**_you here, anyway?" _Something in her demeanor read too clearly that while she wasn't entirely with it, she was enjoying the small spectacle in front of her.

"Because I…" Delphine hesitated, dipping her head to mindlessly scan the open page before her. She pressed her lips into a thin line, lifting her head. "Because when I realized that you weren't just some stranger trapped in that car… I also realized that it was my… my job, I guess, to make sure you were okay."

"_Thank… thank you._"

"Don't thank me yet. I'm guessing you've got a long ways to go."

"_No… I mean… thank you. For staying. For being here. For… reading me a bed time story."_

A nervous laugh flittered through Delphine's parted lips as she repositioned herself in her chair, scooting it a bit closer to the bed.

"Don't mention it."

* * *

><p>It had been just after two when the melodic inflections of Delphine's voice had finally managed to lull Cosima back into sleep and Delphine followed shortly after, the blocky couch being a more than suitable resting area with the adding of knowing that things were better than they had been the day before. She had woken the next morning some time before seven and opted to go home; Cosima had been awake and the attending had the intentions to notify her parents. Of course they would want to see her.<p>

Although she tried to fill her day with normal things, from going to see her parents to going to the gym. She had even suited up and headed out into the cold to try and run away the avalanche of thoughts on the inside of her head. It had helped, but only for a short while, only until she found herself in the shower, every image, every waking moment of the last month raining down over her, far more scorching than the water that fell from the faucet overhead.

Despite every distraction she threw into her own path, Delphine found herself under the light of the setting sun, walking with a bag stuffed with a couple of books, into the hospital. It was stupid; there was no reason for her to go back, to try and force herself into Cosima's life, but she couldn't keep away. Everything inside of her vast, intelligent mind was screaming at her to stop, to give up any attempt to earn forgiveness. What made her think she needed it? Why did she feel she had to seek redemption? Those were questions, inquiries that even she herself was not sure she could try to answer.

As she turned the corner and sidled up to the door of Cosima's room, she offered a gentle tap of her knuckles and poked her head in the door, offering a small smile. However, it slipped away as she took in the sight of the other woman and how she barely even flinched at the new arrival, not once tearing her gaze from the window. "Can I… Can I, um, come in?" she posed, her nerves quivering obviously in her voice. She was met with no answer, and instead slowly started into the room.

Without moving a muscle, Cosima spoke, an undeniable edge to her voice. "You didn't tell me."

Delphine blinked, a bit stunned. "Tell you? Tell you what?"

The muscles in Cosima's throat quivered and her jaw tightened, a streak of a tear lining her cheek.

"That I'm never going to walk again."


End file.
